


from my bed to my bones

by kusemono (Glitchgoat)



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hoshi Meguri (IDOLiSH7), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 04:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17318117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitchgoat/pseuds/kusemono
Summary: Whether it’s that he has nothing to say or that something else has his attention, Sardinia can never be sure; but when Sardinia catches Shinkai’s lips with his own, he knows with no glimmer of uncertainty that – at least in that moment – his focus is on Sardinia alone.[continuing off of 'slave to the sentiment' by ryozumi]





	from my bed to my bones

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [slave to the sentiment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992498) by [ryozumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryozumi/pseuds/ryozumi). 



> porn codas to sen's wonderful sarushin's vignettes, written with permission; if you want more of this go encourage them to write more of 'slave to the sentiment'
> 
> i'll do these every time they add a chapter that inspires me to draw dicks all over it; read the corresponding chapter of the inspiring work or you'll be lost
> 
> ch1 matches with stts ch1 - 'still and silent'

Sometimes, trying to reason with Shinkai is like trying to convince a brick wall to hop a foot to the left. It’s not that he refuses to listen; it’s just that as often as not, he gives no sign that he’s heard Sardinia at all. Whether it’s that he has nothing to say or that something else has his attention, Sardinia can never be sure; but when Sardinia catches Shinkai’s lips with his own, he knows with no glimmer of uncertainty that – at least in that moment – his focus is on Sardinia alone.

As easily as Shinkai’s mouth opens for the slightest brush of his fingers, it opens even easier for his lips. He’s less distant, less evasive, when Sardinia’s larger, abstract requests ( _give me your company, give me your comfort, stay with me, be—_ ) give way to smaller, more concrete ones ( _let me kiss you_ ). Perhaps, Sardinia muses as Shinkai relaxes under him, he understands this easier; this is something he can _do_.

For his king.

For Sardinia.

(Sardinia’s not sure how he feels about that; he chooses not to pursue the thought.)

When Sardinia breaks the kiss, Shinkai seems reluctant for the loss. Almost subconsciously, he leans after Sardinia as he pulls away, right until he catches himself and pulls back. Shinkai’s eyes meet Sardinia’s, and that distant look is – at least for the moment – gone.

Something neither pleasant nor unpleasant but distinctly warm swells in Sardinia’s chest and he hums to ease it down.

“My Shinkai,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything, but Shinkai catches it and shifts just slightly where he sits. Sardinia smiles thinly, glancing down to see what Shinkai is trying only half-heartedly to conceal. Is it the kiss or his words or something else, he wonders idly; but does it matter?

(It’s hardly as though he’s judging.)

“Would you prefer to deal with that alone?” Sardinia asks, knowing the answer is no but sure to give him the option; and sure enough, Shinkai shakes his head a moment later. Sardinia makes a pleased noise from his chest. He ducks his head in to place a kiss where Shinkai’s jaw meets his neck and is rewarded with the slightest shiver. (Shinkai accepts these affections so easily, he clearly doesn’t seem to resent closeness – Sardinia can’t help but wonder _why_ , then—)

That train of thought meets with another, and Sardinia hums again, an idea coming to him, and he surreptitiously picks up the oil he’d been using moments before. He stands, trailing his other hand up Shinkai’s side as he does. Shinkai’s eyes follow Sardinia’s hand, and Sardinia doesn’t even need to tilt Shinkai’s head up for him to follow through and look up to meet his eyes.

Sardinia doesn’t need to, but he does so anyway, in a silent beckon for Shinkai to stand and follow. He does, rising to his feet almost as if sleepwalking or spellbound, and Sardinia takes a willingly-given hand. Sardinia does not lead him to his bed, but if Shinkai is surprised by this, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he circles around and pointedly takes a seat in the cold, unyielding chair that has caused him so much frustration.

He looks expectantly to Shinkai, who gives him a curious look in return. He stays standing, hovering at his side in the awkward way that someone stands when they’re not sure if taking a seat would be impolite.

“Here,” Sardinia says, holding open his arms in a clear invitation for Shinkai to join him. Shinkai hesitates a moment longer before he – slightly awkwardly, because this chair was not made for two – takes his place in Sardinia’s lap, bracing a hand on the back of the chair with his legs on either side of Sardinia’s.

“If it is comfortable enough for you,” Sardinia says, something playful tinting his voice, “then surely it will suffice for this.”

“Is that it,” Shinkai says, a faint smile on his face, and Sardinia rolls his eyes.

Perhaps (Sardinia thinks) Shinkai will soon realize that Sardinia’s lap is a far more appropriate place for him to be.

And perhaps Sardinia is being petulant.

But he can live with that.

Shinkai either hasn’t noticed or has nothing to say about the fact that Sardinia has taken to sleeping in his spare shirts. (They’re larger than his own clothes, they’re equally as comfortable as his normal sleepwear, and – most importantly – they’re Shinkai’s.) Shinkai continues to offer no comment as Sardinia sheds the stolen shirt, but he glances down and traces his eyes over Sardinia as he bares himself. His lips part again, and fondness swells in Sardinia’s chest for neither the first nor last time.

But regardless, Shinkai is significantly more clothed than his king at present, and that’s a problem that needs solving. Sardinia slips his fingers under the top of Shinkai’s leggings, and it takes only a few more moments before such cruel machinations as clothing are no longer an issue.

Shinkai has to half-stand to get his leggings off in full; the moment he drops back down, Sardinia slings an arm around Shinkai’s shoulders and pulls him in to kiss him again. Shinkai fumbles, trying to find a stable position straddling Sardinia’s lap while still keeping his balance, and it takes him a moment, but Sardinia doesn’t see fit to break the kiss, and Shinkai manages eventually.

(He could have just pulled away, but he didn’t, and Sardinia can’t help but chuckle, even if the sound gets muffled by Shinkai’s mouth.)

It has the lovely benefit of Shinkai half-accidentally grinding on him, and it’s not as if Sardinia _really_ needed the help getting hard, but it’s hardly unwelcome.

The next few moments are a blur of body parts and broken kisses; Sardinia finds the chance, while Shinkai is still occupied by the kiss, to reapply the oil – formerly for the massage, and about to repurposed entirely – to his fingers. He snakes his hands around Shinkai, presses his fingers against him in an unspoken request. Shinkai, as he always does, nods his consent around a contented sigh—a sigh that only repeats, even more so, when Sardinia slips his fingers inside him.

(Sardinia thinks again that Shinkai accepts this so readily, and he wonders again how he can so well understand what Shinkai will act but have no concept of what’s happening inside his head—)

He casts the thought away, preferring instead to focus on the way Shinkai puts so much effort into maintaining his balance, even in this awkward position on this stupid chair. He huffs a gentle, almost shaky breath as Sardinia’s fingers move inside him, and Sardinia—

Well.

Sardinia doesn’t _have_ to be patient. He’s never had to be patient. He doesn’t plan to start now.

He draws his hand away ( _oh, Shinkai looks almost disappointed for a moment there_ ) and applies more of the oil to himself.

(Honestly, in hindsight, the disagreement about the chair may have just been an excuse as much as it’s a legitimate gripe, but shush.)

 “Will you, Shinkai?” Sardinia says, humming as he pets Shinkai’s side with the other hand. It’s an invitation as much as it’s anything else, and by the time he finishes speaking, Shinkai is already moving to line up, aided by Sardinia’s guiding hand settled on his hip.

“Yes, my king,” Shinkai murmurs and Sardinia rolls his eyes; Shinkai smiles faintly, then nods, huffs a breath, and sinks down.

He’s not as relaxed as he should be _(probably the result of this stupid chair)_ but it’s not too much of a problem, nothing that’s going to hurt him. That tension in him falls away as he gradually lowers himself onto Sardinia, and Sardinia – barely thinking about what he’s doing –lets his other hands fall to Shinkai hip, and he traces smooth circles around his hipbones with the pads of his thumbs.

As soon as he’s fully seated inside of Shinkai, enwreathed in full in tight heat, he’s hit by a pang of something resembling a bitter resentment, softened quickly by an aching fondness.  
Sardinia’s way be had, he’d take every chance to spend as long as he could just like this— settled inside of Shinkai, as close as he can be, certain that the other is the only thing on either of their minds. Indeed, there’s no distance in Shinkai’s gaze, only a hooded, half-focused stare as he adjusts to the feeling all over again, his lips barely parted and his cheeks tinted the faintest pink.

(Well, his way _could_ be had. That’s the privilege of being king, isn’t it?

… he’ll ask Shinkai about it later.)

It’s less important than what’s at hand: the way Shinkai grips the back of the chair with one hand and lifts his hips. When he begins to sink back down, Sardinia both tugs him down and rocks his own hips up just-slightly, and it’s more than enough to pull Shinkai’s rhythm away from him.

The barest gasp escapes his lips, and Sardinia – selfishly, and he knows it, but that doesn’t stop him, because he’s held back on being selfish this long – wants to hear it again.

(He _wants_ to be _far_ more selfish. He _wants_ to ignore this chair, to forget about it entirely, even though he knows he’s the one making a big deal of it; he _wants_ to pull Shinkai into his bed, waste the day with him and hold his attention, fall asleep inside him and resume as soon as they wake up—)

(So – he reasons – wanting to hear Shinkai’s voice a little more is hardly too much to ask.)

It is lucky, then, that Shinkai – among all his curiosities – has never particularly seen fit to silence himself. He’s not _loud,_ because he never is, but he doesn’t try to hide it when he gasps and not-quite whines and the way his breath catches, more so when Sardinia drags him down a bit more forcefully or rocks his hips up a little harder. In no time at all Shinkai simply accepts the pace Sardinia sets for him, merely along for the ride.

“Shinkai,” Sardinia murmurs, and Shinkai’s attention snaps to him.

“Yes?”

“You can put your hands on me.” It’s not permission, or at least he doesn’t intend it to be, and his tone doesn’t betray it as such; it’s meant as a reminder. It almost hurts that he _does_ have to remind Shinkai –who’s still bracing himself against the back of the chair with one hand and awkwardly keeping the other to himself – of this.

“— ah.” Shinkai hesitates, uncertain, but after a moment the weight of his arms settles loosely around Sardinia’s shoulders; Sardinia hums contentedly. He hesitated less this time than the last. That’s progress; that’s good.  
More than that, though, it’s simply more _comfortable_. Much of what tension remains in Shinkai slips away as he settles against Sardinia. It’s a pale, but appreciated, imitation of the closeness for which Sardinia longs; Shinkai half-melted into his lap as he rides him is almost enough to overcome the cold and rigid wood beneath and behind him.

_(Shinkai is always so warm.)_

Now Shinkai’s unabashed noises grow in volume, not raising in pitch but wavering just-so; Shinkai’s eyes slip shut and Sardinia momentarily considers demanding he open them, but he catches himself before he has the chance to say it. Instead, he drags one hand away from Shinkai’s hip and takes a hold of Shinkai’s dick. Thanks to having the element of at least mild surprise, he’s rewarded with a hiss through pressed teeth for his trouble, and that’s more than payment enough – so the fact that Shinkai noticeably tightens, even if just for a moment, is just a bonus.

“Sardinia-sa—ah—”

Ah, indeed.

“Yes?” Sardinia says, feigning innocence but unable to keep the sly smile off his face. Shinkai cracks an eye open and exhales shakily through his nose, and while his gaze won’t quite focus, it’s for a far better reason – Sardinia concludes – than some thousand-yard stare into eternity.

Sardinia finds himself thinking, with a rush that goes straight to his stomach, that he wants to keep that. (What is _that?_ He chooses not to worry about the specifics.)  
Before his higher brain has the chance to stop him (as if it would), he hums and leans in close, almost close enough to press his forehead to Shinkai’s, but he leaves that space.

“My Shinkai?” he says, relishes the way Shinkai tenses up.

“Yes?” Shinkai’s breath catches on the sound, though whether that’s from Sardinia’s words, the rock of Sardinia’s hips, or Sardinia’s hand around him— (Well. It’s Sardinia’s, regardless, so it doesn’t matter what the specifics are.) “— my king?” he appends, as though he has to worry about being rude.

“Be louder.” It’s not a request, but his tone stays gentle.

Shinkai complies, and Sardinia commits every sound to memory.

It doesn’t last; Sardinia soon closes that space between them, his forehead to Shinkai’s, and cuts off the very noises that he had requested. Shinkai makes a hitched noise into his mouth as Sardinia swipes a thumb around the head of his dick, and Sardinia swallows that little sound down.

He wonders, briefly, if he’s being greedy.

He’s not taking anything that isn’t already his to take.

(Hm.)

Entirely too soon, it comes to an end; even muffled, Shinkai doesn’t silence himself; he groans shakily into Sardinia’s mouth, his arms tightening around his shoulders, right as Sardinia guides him down perhaps a little harder than he needs to. These in tandem draw Sardinia over the edge.

Sardinia finishes first, but Shinkai is only a few short seconds (and a few strokes of Sardinia’s hand) behind him. Sardinia’s dick is still throbbing inside him when he goes unbearably tight, tenses up and goes much quieter than he was mere moments before, sound failing him. Sardinia – finally – stops guiding his hips and lets him rock through it at his own pace; he grinds down, as if trying to eliminate any wasted space between them.

Perhaps Sardinia’s just imagining that, though.

He lifts his hand away from Shinkai’s hip, vaguely wonders if he might leave a hand-print there (perhaps he was gripping tighter than he meant to), but that thought falls away when he combs his fingers through Shinkai’s messy hair, and in return, Shinkai drops his head to Sardinia’s shoulder. His back rises and falls with his breath, and he doesn’t try to disentangle himself from Sardinia just yet.

That’s entirely fine by Sardinia’s reckoning.

He doesn’t know how much longer Shinkai will want to stay like this; he doesn’t even let himself think he’s truly made any headway in convincing Shinkai to join him at night. He hasn’t proven anything – though he may conspicuously complain a little about the chair later in the day.

But, really, the chair is kind of just the excuse, isn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/glitchgoats)


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